Executioner
by QuietRaine
Summary: Postlude to Similitude. Jonathan wrestles with his actions and decisions regarding Sim, and wonders if the Expanse is changing him. A/T slash.


_**Disclaimer:**__ Paramount owns them, not me. I'm just taking them out for a freebie spin._

_**Spoilers:**__ Through Similitude_

_**Author's Note:**__ It has always bothered me that the events of Similitude were never discussed by Jon or Trip. This is my take on it, a missing scene from the end and with my own A/T slash twist. A huge "thank you" to my wonderful betas who helped make this awesome. _

It wasn't that Trip was in my bed that had me awake hours after I should have been asleep. I had grown used to his presence next to me at night. That I had spent enough time sharing a bed with him to be accustomed to his sleep patterns was in and of itself a testament to the strength of our relationship.

Sleep was not something that came easy for Trip. His active mind and hyperactivity left him prone to insomnia and when he did sleep he was almost never still. The only time that sleep was peaceful and quiet was when he was completely and utterly exhausted, as he was this night.

Lying next to him, I watched his face as he lay sprawled on his back across my bed and listened to the deep, even rhythm of his breathing. It was a comfort after the ordeal we had both been through. Even Porthos seemed to be glad to have Trip with us once again, as he was snuggled between us and snoozing with his furry chin resting on Trip's blanket-covered thigh.

I suppose it was the novelty of him lying next to me once again that caused my sleeplessness. For more than two weeks, I had lain in this room every night, alone, while he was lying in sickbay with his life hanging in the balance. For the last two weeks, I had watched a facsimile of the man I loved moving about the ship while the man himself was out of my reach. Sleep seemed like a waste of time. So, while he slept, I watched him.

I studied his pale face, the light bruises beneath his eyes stirring every protective instinct I had within me. It had taken a lot of fast talking and assurances that Trip would be right back in sickbay at the least sign of trouble to convince Phlox to allow him to be here at all, though I knew full well the doctor was monitoring Trip's vitals all the way from sickbay. Phlox was the one person on the ship who knew the true nature of our relationship and the only one who knew just how difficult these last two weeks had been on me. Phlox understood that I needed Trip next to me, to hold him again as much as Trip needed to be near me.

Against both my and Phlox's better judgment, Trip had attended Sim's funeral. In the hours between the surgery and Trip's return to consciousness, the doctor and I had debated if we should tell Trip about Sim at all. In the end, we had decided that there was no real way to keep it from him. Eventually someone on the crew would mention it to him and it was better that he hear it from us. So once he was conscious and Phlox felt he was stable enough to handle the news, we had very gently and very carefully explained exactly what had happened. He'd insisted on attending the funeral, but even as I lay in my bed next to him I still wasn't sure how he felt about the whole mess. He had been strangely quiet. Phlox had told me that he was likely processing it all, a feat made even more complicated by the intense headache that would plague him during his recovery.

I gently stroked Trip's temple as he frowned and mumbled in his sleep, continuing the light touch until he had settled once again. I smiled briefly and rolled over onto my back, deciding that it was time that I tried to get some rest of my own.

"_So what are you gonna do? Drag me down to sickbay? Force me onto a biobed at gunpoint?"_

As I started to doze off, Sim's furious face filled my mind and I jumped. My eyes snapped open. Curious, Porthos glanced over at me and tilted his head. Deciding that I was not, in fact, going to get up and find him a treat, the dog snorted and put his head back down on Trip's leg.

I rubbed my hand over my face. Try as I might, every time I closed my eyes it was Sim I saw. His outrage. His pain. A pain I couldn't blame him for holding onto.

"_Then what am I? Just something you grew in a lab? Does that make it easier to condemn me to death?"_

Had Sim been just a means to an end? I had tried so hard to hold him at arm's length and not develop any sort of attachment to him. I had struggled every day of his short life to keep him compartmentalized in my mind. He was created for the sole purpose of saving Trip's life. That was all. He would live, he would save this man now dreaming next to me, and he would die. It was simple, or it had been in my mind.

At least at first.

I hadn't counted on Sim's resentment. His refusal to conform to my orders and wishes and just do as I asked had startled me. I would have been the first to admit that I hadn't handled that well. Rather than trying to talk to him – as I should have done – I'd dug my heels in. I'd insisted. I'd panicked.

"_I have his memories. I have his feelings. I have his body. How am I not Trip?"_

That had been the kicker. If he truly did have Trip's memories and feelings, then he knew perfectly well what Trip and I meant to one another. He had the images of the two of us together spinning through his mind. I suppose that infuriated him even more. Sim, better than anyone, had seen through me. He knew that while I talked a good talk about the mission and _Enterprise_ needing her chief engineer, Sim knew that it was Jon that needed Trip. It was I that couldn't let Trip go, and Sim knew that I would save Trip at whatever cost.

"_I'll take whatever steps necessary to save him."_

"_Even if it means killing me?"_

"_Even if it means killing you."_

I would have liked to believe that I wouldn't have been able to go through with it. I turned over onto my side and again fixed my watchful gaze on Trip, my mind wandering back to our experiences weeks prior with the _Selaya_. I had said then that I couldn't save humanity without holding on to what made me human. Lying in the dark with Sim's face haunting my dreams, I found myself questioning whether or not the Expanse and the things I had to do, the decisions that I made, were changing me. I wondered if, the longer I spent out here, the more and more I would change into something else. Something darker and more sinister.

Something capable of sentencing an innocent man to death because I was too selfish to let go.

"_You're not a murderer."_

"_Don't make me one."_

The worst part of the whole situation is that I will never know if I could have done it. In the end, Sim had taken the decision out of my hands and agreed to sacrifice his own life for Trip. In a way, I truly believe he hated Trip for it and felt guilty for feeling that way. It wasn't Trip's fault, and Sim knew that. It was mine. It had been a relief that Sim had been willing to do what was needed, but it hadn't alleviated my self-reproach. And it had left me with that last, lingering question that I will never know the answer to.

Could I have become a murderer?

"Are you gonna lay there and watch me sleep all night?" Trip broke through my thoughts and the silence, his voice husky and drowsy with slumber.

I smiled sheepishly, feeling like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar. "Maybe," I replied. "But can you really say you'd do any different?"

Trip rolled over onto his side, though he didn't open his eyes. "If you'd been in a coma for two weeks? Probably not." His brow furrowed slightly. "What time is it?"

"Early," I replied. "Or late. Depends on how you look at it." I ran the back of my finger down his cheek. "How are you feeling?" My hand continued its downward path, sliding to brush over his bare chest.

"Like somebody dropped a warp reactor on my head," he replied. He peered up at me, flinching even in the pale starlight. "I know Phlox said I'd have a headache for a week or so, and I can live with that. But the nausea…" He groaned.

My hand stilled and a brief rush of concern and guilt washed over me. It was instinct to shower him with intimate touches and kisses, but I knew that he felt rough. "Do you need to go back to sickbay?" I asked.

Trip shook his head. "Nah, I'll live." Instinctively I tensed at his choice of words and he opened his eyes completely and sat up. His blue eyes locked on mine intently. "I'll be fine," he said, pointedly.

"I know, I know," I conceded. Porthos lifted his head and woofed softly at us, clearly annoyed that we were interrupting his canine beauty sleep. "Go on, get down," I said to him and shooed him off the bed. He let out a short, irritated bark, hopped down and moved over to his pillow to sulk. I shook my head and then turned back to Trip. "Maybe you should have skipped the funeral."

Trip's expression darkened and he closed his eyes once again and sank back into the bed. "I needed to be there," he said wearily. "I owed him at least that much."

Something in his tone, a note of bitterness or hurt made me pause. "How are you with all of this?" I finally ventured, reaching up to run my fingers through his blond hair.

"To be honest, I have no idea," he replied. His eyes opened again and he gazed up at me, frustration in his eyes. "I'm trying to wrap my head around the whole thing and I just… can't." He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "It was so…" He struggled for the right word. "Weird. Surreal, seeing myself lying in that coffin. Creepy, even." He shivered.

I dropped a tender kiss on his forehead. "It wasn't any easier for me," I said.

Trip was silent for so long that I thought he'd fallen asleep. "Phlox said that he had my memories and feelings," he finally dared. "So basically he was… me?"

"Yes and no." I resumed stroking his hair. "He had your memories, skills, and abilities, yes. But he had his own memories and experiences here on _Enterprise_ that shaped his own feelings. He wanted to be you. He tried hard to be you." I exhaled and rested my chin on my arm. "Maybe too hard."

He licked his lips in such a way that I knew he was trying to work up the nerve to voice something. "Did you-? I mean, you and Sim-?"

"No," I said sharply, and then caught myself. "No," I repeated, this time in a softer tone. "He wasn't you Trip." I hooked a finger under his chin and this time I made him meet my gaze. My heart clenched at the vulnerability in the blue depths. "He was not going to replace you." A faint smirk touched my lips. "Besides, he was interested in T'Pol."

"T'Pol?" He frowned and appeared to think this over. Finally he shrugged. "I can't blame him. She's pretty good-looking. And as Malcolm says, she's got a nice bum."

I raised a brow and pulled away slightly, causing Trip to chuckle. "Just because I admire the model doesn't mean I'm gonna take her for a test drive," he said, pulling me close again. The mirth faded from his expression and he gazed up at me. "This is all a lot to take in."

"I know," I said. I stared at him, and for a brief second it was Sim's face I saw in front of me. Involuntarily, I shuddered. "He didn't want much to do with me," I said. "And that was my own fault. I stayed as far from him as I could most of the time. I-" The pause hung heavy between us. "Every time I looked at him, all I saw was you." I rested my forehead against his. "And as crazy as it sounds, I felt in some ways like I was ordering you to your death."

"Jon…" Trip slid one hand up to rest on my back. "The last thing I wanted was for anyone to die because of me."

"In the end, he was the one that made the decision."

"Maybe," Trip said. "But I'm not sure that I'm worth that kind of sacrifice."

"That depends on whom you're asking," I answered, running a hand down his side. I felt him instantly respond, tightening his arm around me. "Maybe I'm not proud of it, but I'd do it all over again."

"You'd clone me again just to save my life?" he asked, gazing into my eyes.

I nodded slowly. "The ship needed her chief engineer."

He stared at me. "And her captain?"

My shoulders sagged. "Her captain is selfish. Her captain sent a man to his death because he couldn't stand the thought of living without you."

Again Trip was quiet. "I don't hold it against you," he finally said. "Because, hell, I don't know that I wouldn't have done the same thing. But the next time I blow myself off of the top of the warp engine, how about we not clone me? This…" He trailed off. "It's gonna take me a few days to process all this." His eyes closed and he flinched, and I knew that the pain medication Phlox had given him hours before was wearing off.

"Sim did ask me to tell you something," I said as I ran my fingertips back and forth across his forehead. "And I think it's pretty sound advice. He said that the next time you plan on experimenting with the warp drive, watch your ass."

"No problem," he answered. "My head is pounding, my stomach is churning, my back hurts from two weeks on one of those biobeds, and my emotions are all over the place." He cracked open one eye to look up at me. "This isn't an experience I'd care to repeat."

"Me either." I pulled him close, cupping his cheek. "Don't ever – _ever_ – scare me like that again."

He seemed taken aback by my intensity. "I'll do my best," he replied, trying to make light of the situation. "But you know it's not an average week around here unless I've visited Phlox at least once."

I silenced him by covering his mouth with mine. Startled, he moaned softly against my lips, his hands trailing up and over my shoulders. I tangled my fingers in his hair, pouring every bit of worry, fear, and longing I'd felt over the last two weeks into that one kiss. To my delight, Trip responded to my touch, his hips instinctively arching to press against mine. The kiss deepened and lengthened until Trip finally gasped and pulled back.

"Hold on, hold on," he murmured. His eyes closed. "Too much."

I realized instantly that his battered body couldn't handle that much excitement just yet. "Easy," I said. "Take a deep breath."

"Doctor Phlox to Captain Archer," the doctor's concerned voice abruptly filled the room.

Trip collapsed back against the pillows, gasping and pressing his palm to his forehead. I dropped another tender kiss on his lips and reached up to touch the comm button. "Go ahead."

"I just wanted to check on Commander Tucker's condition," Phlox replied. "My sensors are reporting an increase in heart rate and cardiovascular activity."

I glanced down at Trip. Guilt flooded through me when I saw he was fighting against pain. I'd pushed him too far, too soon. "I think he's due for a dose of pain medication," I finally replied, already reaching for the hypospray Phlox had sent with Trip.

"Captain, I don't need to remind you that the Commander is recovering from very intense surgery." I could hear the disapproval in Phlox's voice and my remorse grew. "He should be resting, not engaging in… strenuous activity."

"Don't worry, Doc," Trip interjected wearily as I pressed the hypospray to his neck. "I couldn't get strenuous if I wanted to."

"Get some sleep, Commander. Phlox out."

The pain medication only took a minute or two to take effect, and Trip began to grow drowsy. "Just give me a minute," he murmured, his hand covering his eyes.

"You know," I teased, moving to stretch out next to him. "'I have a headache' is the oldest excuse in the book."

The fingers over his face parted and one blue eye peered darkly out at me. "I just had _brain surgery_," he replied, deadpan. "I think I'm entitled to at least one play of the 'I have a headache, not tonight' card."

I laughed. "Just this once," I agreed and kissed him again, this time with gentleness and love.

"You should get some sleep too, Jon," Trip said. One corner of his lips turned up in a sleepy half-smile as he dropped his hand and his eyes drifted shut. "You have to work tomorrow. I have the day off and can sleep in."

I chuckled and settled down next to him. "Only because Phlox hasn't cleared you to return to duty." I curled up against his back, sliding an arm around his waist to pull him closer.

To my surprise, Trip rolled over and nuzzled against my chest. "Seriously, get some sleep," he murmured. "Night. Love you."

I smiled and kissed the top of his head. "Love you, too," I responded. He didn't even hear me, as sleep had already taken him again.


End file.
